The Hornet in Dark Souls 3
by Knight Artorias
Summary: Ciaran wakes up in the world of Dark Souls III. Uh oh.


-[+]-

 _She was alive._

 _It was like a dream. The final stages before waking up and all she could see was streaks of gold arching across her vision only being interrupted by wet splashes of crimson. She danced, oh how she danced, an elegant ballet as her feet moved across the room. Her slender arms arching and swinging with each step as gold trails swept mesmerizingly behind. It was just pure fantasy, a field of discarded swords with a single tombstone._

 _In her later years she was gripped by madness combined with a distinct coldness that only emphasized her as whole being. A detachment from reality as she refused to see it be shattered, so she had developed a sort of single minded obsession that bordered on lunacy._

 _She danced her days away with the ghosts of a past friend and convinced the night air was him._

 _There was a certain darkness in her heart, a madness that took root in the eyes and threatened to spread throughout the rest of her body like a cancer. The sort of disease that took years corrupting her very soul before finally reaching terminal stages._

 _Her every move was outlined by her own shadow in the moonlit night, a distorted reflection that mimicked her every move. It was mocking yet beneath her notice, like many things._

 _She had an audience, simple shadows with pale faces moving towards her. She paid them no heed as they were beneath her. A flash of gold and faint silver and they were gone in splash of red. She continued her dance regardless and ignored the sharp stabs as she stepped between them._

 _So very beneath her. In deepest corner of her mind she simply didn't care anymore. She moved as if she was in a trance._

 _Whispers crept slowly in the darkest corners of the forest, carefully making it's way through the crowd to her. It was all such an annoyance she wished to leave behind, so she moved faster. Faster and faster until the world was a kaleidoscope of vivid raw color and in those moments she could find solace in the blur._

 _Her world was spinning as she collapsed, the cold slab was an odd comfort. The shadows dispersed with a sudden howl and her heart sank with a new heaviness._

 _Everything was still so dark._

 _So numb._

 _Still so blurry._

 _The finale was swift._

 _In the blur there was silence and she was finally alone._

* * *

-[+]-

She breathed.

The sudden intake of air left her coughing, gasping for something cleaner and not so _foul_. Bright golden eyes shot open, seemingly illuminating the pitch black. She was laying down on an uneven surface that brought forth great discomfort. Armored gauntlets ventured further away as the assassin tried to get feel for her current environment, then she felt it.

Walls.

A compact space no further than several inches off of her body. Her world was shrinking and she was only growing larger.

Breathe.

Another intake followed by another and another in rapid succession. The sound of her breathing was drove her mad in the silence. Her very mind itself was convinced she was running out of the precious gas.

Her fist clenched in response to her state of mind.

A brief moment of fear followed before pandemonium ensued. Her fists struck the surrounding walls with such tremendous impacts it caused the entire container to shake ever so slightly.

This was not right. She was not alive.

The blackness had swallowed her, consumed her, surrounded her like an abyss. Perhaps this was what her dear friend had spoken of long ago. Her non-human eyes were dilating to the surrounding darkness when she noticed she was not alone. Instantly she froze.

A lifetime creeping in the darkest of shadows had done little to prepare her for this.

Hands were grasping her, thin white hands feeling the sides of her legs and arms. Lithe arms had wrapped around her waist and neck. She could feel breathing, hot breath scorching the back of her neck causing the hairs to rise slightly. She turned her glowing eyes widening when she saw it.

A cheshire grin adorned their faces and the most empty of eyes stared back at her. They were laughing, a coalition of high pitched cackles that increased in resonance the longer she stared.

"Join us" They hissed while reaching to grab her again.

In an instant she was up. An inhuman show of strength and the stone slab was lifted. The assassin crashed into the soft dirt with small thud. Her eyes were wide and breathing erratic as she slowly tried to bring it back to control.

Her focus was on the tomb as she warily waited for her assailants. A golden blade was instantly in her hand ready to finish her foes. Nothing pursued her.

"Fools." She hissed before blurring into motion.

Her retaliation was instant as she raised her sword, adopting a reverse grip as she prepared to stab downward into - nothing?

She paused, questioning the situation.

The dead remained dead. A golden arch downward that rendered bones into shards had proven that. There was nothing there.

She exhaled and leaned against the tomb, an iron grip on the stone edges. She ever present grin on the skull was almost mocking her. It's empty orbs matching her gold ones as if challenging her to divert her gaze, to simply be the first to break.

"Damn it..." she bit out.

Another flash of gold cut severed more of the bones into fragments. Those empty eyes still stared. Still laughing at her.

"Damn it all!" the Lord's Blade yelled.

And with her anger a flurry of gold left a series of long and ugly scars running across the sides of the tomb. She sent another withering glare at the corpses before sitting down against a nearby tree. It was a dead tree, yet in death it still remained sturdy.

The assassin felt her anger dissipate as she casually surveyed the surrounding graveyard.

 _The disrespect._

The old assassin offered a silent apology to the bodies she had so destroyed in her brief moments of rage. A shameful display given her distinct status as one of the Lord of Sunlight's chosen few. The name of her former lord caused her to wince. She had spent centuries wandering the world after he left the Sacred City. So many years spent before ending her journey at the tomb of her friend.

She felt a pang of sadness.

The Abysswalker was long dead and by rights so should she. Idly she wondered if any from the city of the Sun were still alive to this very day? She hadn't returned in centuries, perhaps it was prospering yet again. Hawkeye Gough was left in Oolacile, choosing to remain in the accursed city. The Dragon Slayer remained in the the cathedral guarding that foolish illusion with that despicable executioner of his.

She observed her surroundings. A graveyard judging by the various assortment of tombstones.

 _How fitting_ she thought sardonically.

It was an unorganized graveyard with the many tombs hastily spread out throughout the narrow valley that entombed them. It was rather makeshift lending some credence to this place being _human_ in nature. She eyed the many tombs in increasing disdain.

 _They always did have trouble with undead..._

She remembered that the humans tended to revive on more occasions that any other race. Their dead always overpopulated their cemeteries being the rats they were.

She was suddenly awoken from her thoughts, sudden movement and the splashing of water in the nearby creek caught the assassin's attention. Her eyes flashed and the grip on her tracer tightened. Absently she noticed her Dark Silver Tracer was missing, a shame as she favored that weapon heavily.

While swiftly adjusting her dark robes, the Lord's Blade Ciaran began walking toward the sound to investigate.

-[+]-

* * *

 **\- Oneshot maybe?**


End file.
